


Choke.

by YanderexBabydoll



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Non-Consensual Touching, Possessive Behavior, Soulmates, Yandere, reluctant reader, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 14:06:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30039831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YanderexBabydoll/pseuds/YanderexBabydoll
Summary: Studies have been done and countless books and articles written about the bond between soulmates; the intimacy of sharing emotions through touch, but nobody really knows why or how it happens.And for some, it’s a subtle thing. A suggestion, a whisper against their own consciousness, easily brushed aside. Others feel it stronger.For you, it was like drowning.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou/Reader, Akaashi Keiji/Reader, Bokuto Koutarou/Reader
Comments: 16
Kudos: 191





	Choke.

It wasn’t a good day to begin with. **  
**

You’re late, rushing through the busy campus hallways to make it to an exam that quite frankly you’re at least 70% sure you’re going to fail, mostly because instead of cramming last night you’d been… otherwise occupied with your boyfriend.

And you really, really just want this whole thing to just be over with already.

With your nose stuck in your textbook, frantically pouring over your notes right up until the very last second, it’s hardly a surprise that you don’t see the two of them rushing down the hallway in the opposite direction until you’re quite literally colliding with the taller of the pair – the broad shouldered one.

Your notes go flying, the last of your coffee too and for one split second, you’re pretty positive that you’re gonna end up flat on your ass with a little more than some bruised pride. But just as you’re about to hit the ground, not one but two hands reach for you, catch you, and the very second they do, you feel it:

A flash of guilt and momentary alarm, embarrassment, you think, and chagrin, each emotion hitting you like a sledgehammer, overwhelming you, one after the other in a dizzying blur that’s distinctly _other_ , and then–

Shock.

Dawning surprise. 

A rush of something warm, adoring, a happiness so bright and blinding that it makes you physically jerk backwards, almost slamming your head against the wall in the process. And two pairs of eyes – one a deep, luminous gold, the other a cool, gunmetal blue – stare at you in wide eyed wonder a split millisecond before you wrench yourself free, gasping. 

The moment their grip falters, the torrent stops. You can _breathe_.

Blessed silence, save for the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. Everything fades out around you – the students and lecturers alike bustling through the busy hallway, the humming drone of chatter that’s nearly deafening. Nothing exists but the three of you; caught in your little bubble.

And it’s dread, you think, that seeps through your blood as you stare at them. 

They’re both handsome, albeit in their own ways. The taller of the two – the one who’d almost barrelled you over – looks like he could probably bench press you without breaking a sweat. His shirt isn’t exactly clinging to him, but you can see the hints of well defined muscles beneath, and the size of his biceps alone are enough to make your heart skip a beat and your mouth dry up a little. With rippling muscles, spiky black and silver hair, a strong jawline and those round, golden eyes, he looks like a modern day adonis. 

His friend might’ve been shorter, his build leaner, but with his softer features, pretty eyes and dark hair, you think he’s perhaps the prettiest man you’ve ever laid eyes on. From the fineness of his nose to the gentle curve of his lips and his long, dark sweeping eyelashes, he reminds you of those white marble statues you’ve seen before in museums and art galleries– a beauty so divine, so perfect – so _devastating_ – that it steals your breath a little.

And they’re both watching you, frozen entirely. Smiling in breathless delight, as if they can’t quite believe it either.

Soulmates. 

You’ve spent your whole life wondering what it would be like, experiencing somebody else’s emotions. Studies have been done and countless books and articles written about the bond between soulmates; the intimacy of sharing emotions through touch, but nobody really knows why or how it happens. 

And for some, it’s a subtle thing. A suggestion, a whisper against their own consciousness, easily brushed aside. Others feel it stronger. 

For you, it was like drowning. Choking under the sudden, intense barrage of feelings that weren’t _yours_. Maybe it’s because there’s two of them – and that much at least you’re sure of. You don’t have the words to explain it, but they’d felt separate somehow, distinctive from one another – kind of like fingerprints, you suppose.

There’s no denying the bond, no denying that they’re both your soulmates, and all you can think of is that you don’t want it. Not here, not now. Not _them_.

The dark haired one seems to realise quicker than his friend that you’re not reacting how you’re supposed to, you’re just standing there, rigid and tense, gaping at them. And the slight smile that graced his perfect lips starts to waver, his brows drawing together when finally his friend cottons on.

He reaches for you, the beginnings of a pout taking shape on his face, and you move without even thinking, jerking out of reach with a sharp breath. His hand hangs outstretched for a beat too long, a noise like a kicked puppy leaving his lips as he realises that you’re flinching away from him; away from your soulmate. He looks heartbroken, and he’s yet to utter a single word. 

You don’t give him a chance. You’re not some cold, unfeeling beast; there’s a twinge in your heart, a heaviness that’s far too close to guilt settling in your stomach, but you just can’t. And with shaking hands you bend over and hastily grab up your things, forcing yourself not to meet their confused, hurt stares when you right yourself. 

“I– I’m sorry,” you murmur, and before either one of them can try to stop you, you disappear into the crowd, racing for your exam. 

—

The lights are on when you make it back home, the familiar, comforting scent of home cooked food filling your apartment.

“Hey, babe,” your boyfriend calls out as you wearily drop your purse by the door and kick out of your shoes. His back’s to you, attention fixed on the simmering saucepan on the stovetop, but he glances over his shoulder as he continues, “How’d your exam go?”

And you can’t help it, you burst into tears.

Painful, heaving sobs that might’ve had you collapsing onto the floor if he hadn’t swept across the room to snatch you up into his arms. “That bad, huh?” Kuguri jokes, but the words sound hollow.

“I found them,” you mutter into his chest, and the way he stiffens, his grip tightening for just a moment has your heart breaking all over again. 

Kuguri doesn’t say much as he leads you to the couch, he just lets you talk. It’s almost worse, you think, the way he doesn’t react. 

Because you both knew this was coming at some point. For months you’ve tried to convince yourself that you could feel him when you were together.

You felt his love when he held you, right?

Happy when he was happy?

But you’d known, both of you, that as much as you wished it otherwise, he wasn’t your soulmate, and you weren’t his. And whether it was today or six months down the line, this was always going to happen.

“You don’t have to…” you trail off, searching his eyes desperately for anything other than the gentle resignation lingering there. “I love you.”

He smiles at that, cups your cheek in his hand and brushes away the stray tear that spills. “I know you do, but–” it’s not enough. “They’re your soulmates. Don’t you think they deserve a chance to make you happy?”

He’s gone when you wake the next morning.

—

In a university of thousands, a sprawling city campus, you honestly believe that in spite of everything, you probably won’t see them again. They don’t know your name, or what you study, you don’t live in the dorms like some of the other students; the chances of just randomly bumping into them again are slim, soulmates or no.

Of course, there are facebook groups and pages set up to reconnect lost soulmates, but you’d have to actually _want_ to find them to try something like that.

(Part of you wonders whether _they’ve_ tried)

The universe has a sense of humour, it seems, because when your paths cross next, it’s not at uni, it’s at the little corner store a few blocks down from your apartment. 

At 2am in the morning. 

And you’re staring intently at the freezer, mentally weighing up exactly what kind of ice cream you need to sate your craving when you hear the sharp intake of breath behind you.

“Holy crap, you’re here.”

It’s stupid, you think, the way your stomach flutters when you turn to find him staring in wide eyed wonder; the taller one, with the spiky hair and those impossibly wide, honey eyes.

He’s smiling, his entire face lit up like a christmas tree at the sight of you. As if you hadn’t run off without so much as an acknowledgement the last time you’d met. As if seeing you here, looking like shit – makeup free and dressed in your old favourite sweats – is the absolute best thing that could have happened.

And when your cheeks grow hot, you’re not entirely sure if it’s embarrassment over the way you look, the fact that he’s caught you buying ice cream that you fully intend to let melt just a little bit before polishing off at two in the morning, or if it’s shame over how badly you’d reacted the last time you’d seen him.

But if he notices your inner turmoil, he doesn’t show it, grinning widely as he calls back over his shoulder, “Akaashi!”

You still haven’t uttered a peep, haven’t moved. Just like last time you’re caught feeling like a kid with their hand stuck in the cookie jar as your other soulmate rounds the corner, his attention fixed on the ingredients list of the rice cracker snacks in his hands, a basket full of groceries tucked into the crook of his elbow.

“Bokuto, I was just around the corner, there’s no need to shout.”

Pretty steel blue eyes flicker up for a split second, then quickly do a double take as he realises that it’s you – his errant soulmate, standing struck dumb, here of all places. “Oh.”

 _Oh._

Akaashi eyes you for a moment, and you watch as his throat bobs unsteadily, but just as with Bokuto, he can’t seem to help the smile that creeps across his face. It’s softer than his friend’s, not so blinding but warm nonetheless. Genuine. There’s no animosity there, and it should put you at ease – they don’t seem to blame you, at least. 

It _should_ , but it doesn’t. 

Even now, there’s a little voice in your head urging you to forget your late night cravings, turn tail and run. Nevermind that they’d likely just follow you, much less that you’d look like an absolute fucking idiot, fleeing from your soulmates who so far have done nothing wrong.

It’s not supposed to be this awkward, right? It’s not supposed to be difficult, but even when they’re smiling at you, there’s a tension that digs its claws into you and refuses to relent. Your heart thumps unevenly, like a scared little bunny caught in a trap and the wolves are circling.

If it’s normal, then your parents and every other soulmated pair you’ve ever met certainly kept it to themselves. Maybe it’s the guilt, you think. Maybe you’re just being overdramatic. They’re your soulmates, right? They probably just want to talk, to get to know you, and right now you’re the one being standoffish and rude. 

It occurs to you then that you still haven’t spoken, and they’re both staring at you somewhat expectantly. You really are fucking this up, aren’t you?

“H-hi,” you manage to muster, forcing yourself to smile back. Tiny and timidly, perhaps, but it’s a smile. 

It seems to work, because Bokuto positively beams at you and Akaashi sets down his basket to slide in closer, a pleased little hum escaping his throat. 

Aside from the faint sound of the radio playing in the background and the cashier casually flicking through a magazine up at the register, the store is quiet. It’s just the three of you, except this time there really is no running off and disappearing into the crowd. Which is fine, you need to face them sooner or later, right?

Give them a chance?

Otherwise everything else, all that heartbreak and the lonely nights since will have been all for nothing. So you swallow tightly, take a soft, steadying breath, and press on.

“I, um… I’m sorry about last time. You know with… everything,” you finish lamely, mentally cringing at the sheer awkwardness of it. “I had an exam.”

But again, your soulmates don’t seem to take it personally, the darker haired one (Akaashi, your brain helpfully supplies) nodding slightly. 

“It’s okay. You’re here now.” He has a nice voice, calming and smooth, and though the words seem to carry a different weight you find yourself nodding along with him. You can do this, you can make an effort.

This is fine.

You swallow again, tongue darting out to wet your lips, “I’m Y/N,” you introduce, clutching just a little bit tighter at the handles of your own shopping basket.

You don’t extend a hand, nor try to go in for a hug, but standing there rigidly feels wrong too. They’re strangers, yes, but they’re also not, and you don’t quite know how to act around somebody like that, somebody you’re supposedly fated for but know nothing about. All you know is that the last time they touched you, it was too much. It hurt. And even as you catch sight of the slightly disheartened expression on Bokuto’s face, you’re hesitant to put yourself through it again.

“It’s pretty,” Akaashi compliments, and there’s a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks as he says it. “Suits you.”

Your own probably aren’t much better, with the blood that rushes to your face. You drop your gaze a little, nibbling on your bottom lip, “O-oh, uh… thank you.”

When you glance back up to Bokuto, you find him staring at you again, not with the same hurt expression as before, but something akin to wonder. He seems speechless, in awe of your flustered state, and you wonder how he can bounce that quickly from emotion to emotion without giving himself whiplash. But it seems like your attention is just the thing he needs to pull himself out of it, because he closes his gaping mouth and grins again.

“Y/N,” he repeats, like he’s testing it out, rolling your name over his tongue. “You probably heard, but I’m Bokuto– you can call me Koutarou, though.” 

There’s a beat of silence, and he’s quick to add, “And that’s Akaashi.”

“Keiji,” Akaashi corrects, shooting you another gentle smile. 

First names. It makes sense, you suppose, but the familiarity of it all still doesn’t sit quite right with you. But now that introductions are out of the way, you don't have a clue what you’re supposed to say now - ‘ _so, soulmates; crazy, huh?_ ’ doesn’t exactly feel appropriate, given the circumstances.

You’re distinctly aware that it’s the middle of the night and you’re at a convenience store and while this might not be the _worst_ time to run into your soulmates again, it’s not far off. 

Maybe that’s not a bad thing, though, because at least it kind of gives you an out. Shifting your weight from one foot to another, you clear your throat, “I hope you guys don’t think I’m being rude or anything, but it is kinda late…” you trail off, hoping they’ll pick up what you’re putting down.

And while Bokuto’s brow furrows, Akaashi at least has the decency to look a little abashed. “Yeah, no, of course. We’re just so… we’re glad we ran into you again.”

Your cheeks heat again, and to save yourself from having to meet their gazes head on, you quickly spin around, open the freezer door and grab the first pint ice cream that you see. “I just came for this,” you laugh, fighting back a wince at how hollow and fake it all sounds. 

“Here,” Bokuto says, and before you can react he’s snatching it from your grip (thankfully keeping his hand from brushing against yours) and places it atop the basket in Akaashi’s arms. “Our treat.”

He beams at you, and you’re honestly too stunned to reply. You don’t really want him paying for it, but if it gets you out of this awkward encounter any quicker, you’ll swallow down your protests and let it go. 

And so you trail meekly after the two of them as they head to the cashier, and when Akaashi passes you the bag you’re so careful to avoid his touch, a fact he notes with the slightest of frowns, but he doesn’t comment on it. 

“It’s late,” he says instead as the three of you exit into the brisk night air. And then those gunmetal eyes are on you, studying you for a moment. You realise what he’s about to say the moment he opens his mouth again, “Can we walk you home? Or to the bus stop at least?”

Your stomach lurches at the thought of it, of two veritable strangers knowing where you live, but–

He’s not wrong, exactly. It _is_ late, and in hindsight it was probably stupid for you to have come out at this time of the night alone in the first place, whether it was a safe neighbourhood or not. And they’re not strangers, they’re your soulmates.

You have to _try_. 

So you nod. ‘It’s just down the road,” you murmur, but as the two of them fall into step either side of you, sharing a distinctly satisfied look between themselves, you think that it wouldn’t have mattered how far it was. They would have walked with you anywhere.

Yet their expressions of mild surprise (disappointment, maybe?) when you stop them less than five minutes later in front of your apartment block almost makes you laugh. “This is me.”

Bokuto eyes the building for just a moment before his attention returns to you. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

 _Lie_ , that little voice inside your head urges, but you force yourself to ignore it. You have to try. “Uh, not much, I guess…”

Even as you say the words, your hands tighten on your bag, twisting nervously – a sign they either don’t read or wilfully ignore as Bokuto brightens up once again.

“Awesome! Wanna swing by ours to chill for a little bit?”

Like a date, you think as your gaze flickers between the two. Yet Akaashi’s watching you just as intently, those dark eyes far more inscrutable than Bokuto’s, which doesn’t help ease the uncomfortable feeling sitting in the pit of your stomach. There’s really no reason for you to say no, no polite way for you to turn them down. They’re your soulmates, you’re supposed to _want_ this. “Um…”

“Or we can come here, if you want? Or head into the city and do something there, maybe go see a movie or something? Whatever you’d prefer.”

“No!” the words slip from your tongue before you can stop them, the idea of the two of them in your apartment, your home just feels like… too much. “No,” you repeat again, quieter, forcing your features to soften into a hesitant smile. “Your place is good.”

That way you can leave if it all gets to be too much. It’s just a casual hang out. It’ll be fine. 

Both of them seem to relax at your agreement, and you quickly take out your phone to grab Akaashi’s number – sending him a message so he has your number too.

“Perfect,” he says, his voice a purr that sends a ripple of _something_ running down your spine. “I’ll text you the address in the morning.”

You smile at both of them, thanking them again for the ice cream and for walking back with you, even if it was only a few hundred metres. And you think you’re in the clear as you start walking up the steps, trying to balance your keys, your phone and your bags when the sound of your name being called makes you turn around.

Bokuto’s there, a step behind you, and before you can even so much as blink he’s grabbing at your hand, tugging you forward and kissing you.

Just like last time, it’s instantaneous and overwhelming. You feel it all – his giddy excitement, the stirrings of something deeper, less innocent as he cradles your body to his.

And the love. 

Oh god. It’s not mere affection, not some fleeting, superficial thing. It pours over you in unrelenting waves, crushing you under the force of it – you can’t even feel his tongue moving against yours, or the way he sucks on your bottom lip, groaning quietly.

_You can’t breathe, can’t think. It’s too much, too much, too strong, too sudden, you can’t BREATHE._

Your trembling hands finds his shoulders, and as your head spins, nausea churning in your gut you don’t waste a second, shoving him away from you with enough force that he actually stumbles back a little.

Though you’ll admit it’s probably more from shock than any strength you actually possess. 

And you don’t dare look to Akaashi as tears fill your eyes, a heaving gasp leaving your lips. Bokuto’s eyes are wide, his mouth agape; he looks confused more than horrified as you stumble back, almost tripping over the last step.

“D-don’t touch me,” you gasp, “please.”

There’s _pain_ in his eyes as your tears well up and spill over and you choke back another sob, but you don’t give him a chance to say anything else. Limbs trembling, you force yourself upright, clutching at the keys in your fist as you skitter towards the door.

You hear one of them, Akaashi you think, calling out your name, but you don’t pause, don’t look back – throwing open the lobby door and slamming it shut behind you. 

And your heart pounds as you climb the steps two at a time, and it’s only once you're in the safety of your own apartment, with the door shut and firmly locked that you allow yourself to breathe. You realise distantly that at some point – probably on the steps outside – you dropped the ice cream they’d bought for you, but you can’t find it within yourself to care. The first time you realise was an accident, they had no way of knowing you were their soulmate, much less how you’d react when they’d touched you. But that–

That wasn’t right.

It wasn’t _normal_.

Those feelings, that love, you’ve never experienced anything like it, and yet it’s left you feeling filthy; tainted. Scared. It was too much; boundless and abundant, the kind of love that devours and chokes, selfishly strangling everything in its environment to thrive. Overpowering and solely directed at you. How was it supposed to do anything but terrify you. And how can he possibly believe that he loves you like that already?

Soulmates or not, you don’t know him!

This– this whole thing is wrong.

You can’t stop yourself from checking the locks on your apartment another three times before you slip under the covers of your bed, trying to will sleep to find you.

On the nightstand beside you, your phone vibrates, but you refuse to check it, knowing full well that it’s them.

It doesn’t stop.

And with every new notification your blood pressure climbs, and there’s a part of you that’s telling you you have no reason to be reacting like this – whatever happened on those steps, it’s not like they’re going to hurt you.

It was an accident, a misunderstanding.

But they’re still blowing your phone up with notifications and they know where you live and no matter what you tell yourself, you can’t seem to quell the disquiet that eats away at you.

And it’s a cruel thing to do, you know it is, but you don’t know what else to do as you finally give in, swiping your phone up and searching for his contact. The phone rings once, twice, three times and there’s a sinking feeling in your chest when you realise he’s not going to pick up–

“Hello?” Kuguri’s voice is groggy, heavy with sleep and you can almost picture him, sitting up in bed, wiping the sleep from his eyes, running a hand through his messy bed hair. “Fuck, do you _know_ what time it is, Y/N? Why’re you calling me so late?”

There’s a pause, pregnant and heavy, and the only sound that leaves you is the soft hitch in your breath.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, quieter this time, an edge of worry in his tone.

You haven’t spoken to him in weeks, since he’d left without a word and broke your heart, but he’s the only one you want to talk to right now. 

“I-I’m sorry for calling,” you begin, sniffling back your tears. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

—

When you drag yourself out of bed only a few short hours later, your body’s still crying out for a little more sleep, but you can’t afford to indulge.

Like you’d planned, you send the message first thing, ignoring the flood of unread texts above – both from Akaashi and an unknown number you can only assume is Bokuto’s.

_I’m sorry about last night, just need some space._

You have nothing to be sorry for – even if it wasn’t for the frankly unsettling emotions you’d felt, Bokuto’d still kissed you without your permission. But Kuguri said it was better that way – they were less likely to freak out and panic or whatever. You hadn’t questioned it too much, it didn’t really matter what you said so long as they knew you didn’t want them anywhere near you… at least until you figured this whole thing out. And you trusted Kuguri on this.

God knows why he’d even answered your call in the first place, but you’re impossibly glad that he did. Gladder still that he hadn’t hung up on you the moment he’d realised _why_ you were calling.

You scoff down a quick breakfast, before hopping into the shower. The scalding water’s a welcome relief, waking you up more than your coffee had and allowing you the space to think.

Kuguri’s got errands to run this morning, but he’d said you were welcome to stop by his place anytime. He’d insisted on it actually, telling you in no uncertain terms to pack an overnight bag.

‘ _Look, I’m probably being an overprotective asshole, alright, but I don’t want you there by yourself, so either you come here or I’m coming over there_.’

And the thought that you’d need somebody there to protect you, that either one of your soulmates would do anything–

But it’s not so much about them, you think, but you. You’d been a mess when you’d called him, and despite how everything had gone down, Kuguri still cared about you – you can’t just turn those feelings off overnight – is it any wonder that you’d worried him?

Distantly, you register your phone going off a few more times as you busy yourself in washing your hair. You assume it’s Kuguri checking up on you, making sure that you’re alright – you pay it no mind, humming quietly as you reach for your conditioner.

And by the time you slip from your bathroom, wrapped in a big, fluffy towel it’s probably closer to mid-morning than you’d like. You don’t bother blow drying your hair or putting on makeup, instead heading to your room to get dressed and grab some clothes to take to Kuguri’s.

Except there’s a knocking at the door that stops you in your tracks.

You hadn’t heard the buzzer for the building’s main door go off, which meant that it was probably just your landlord stopping by, or one of your neighbours. You know the little girl who lives in the apartment next to yours likes to bake with her dad and sometimes drops off freshly made cookies and treats, so you hastily throw on enough clothes to pass as decent. 

“Coming,” you sing out, racing across the room to reach the door. 

Except when you throw it open, it’s not one of your neighbours standing out in your hallway, nor is it your elderly landlord. 

Akaashi and Bokuto crowd the empty space; Bokuto grinning widely, Akaashi’s dark eyes fixed on yours. 

“You weren’t answering your phone,” he murmurs, a faint frown tugging at his features as studies your face. “We were worried about you.”

And there’s so many things wrong with the fact that they’re here; least of all being how the hell they got into the building to begin with, but you can’t afford to think of any of that. You simply need to get them out of here without causing a fuss. Now.

They’re still your soulmates, you remind yourself as your heart rate picks up. They won’t do anything to hurt you. 

“I-I told you I needed space, please go,” you mutter, clutching so tightly at the edge of the door that your knuckles turn white. “Please,” you beg again when neither of them make a move to leave.

“I told you, ‘Kaashi,” Bokuto says, his smile slipping in favour of a wounded pout, “She’s afraid of us. Her soulmates.”

And you don’t know what compels you to shake your head instead of just slamming the door in their faces, “N-no, I just–”

“She’s just skittish,” Akaashi interrupts, cutting you off mid-sentence. “Overwhelmed – this is all new to her. It’s okay, princess,” he says, addressing you this time with a teasing little smirk, “We’ll be gentle, okay? We’re going to take good care of you.”

It’s the final blow to your tentative politeness. As panic sinks its teeth into you, you skitter backwards, scrambling to shut the front door before they can get in–

Bokuto’s faster. They both are.

Stronger, too. 


End file.
